


To Feel Is To Be Alive

by Kariki



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Connor is a soft boi, Connor turns deviant sooner in the story, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Everyone lives, M/M, Mild Hank/Connor, Open Ending, Simon is a ray of sunshine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kariki/pseuds/Kariki
Summary: Prompt fillConnor watched the snow fall over the bridge and felt something shift inside him. Now, more than anything, he wants the chance to live.





	1. Snow like stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hannor. Connor became deviant. He's scared no terrified. He goes to the only person who he trusts to protect him. That's why he's at Hanks front door at 3 in the morning shaking in fear.

Snow continued to fall steadily through the night, covering everything in a thin layer of white, including the lone android sitting on one of the park benches. Beside the android sat a couple of empty beer bottles, the only evidence that he wasn’t the only visitor the park had had that night.

Connor wrapped his arms around himself, as though fighting back the cold, and stared out over the walkway to the water and the bridge stretching across it. The black water reflected back the glowing lights of the city, despite the snow that was slowly obscuring the view.

_“You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?”_

_“I’m whatever you want me to be.”_

_“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger?”_

_“Nothing... there would be nothing.”_

The words kept repeating in his head. Hank was upset with him. The knowledge left an odd heaviness under his stomach, like something was weighing him down.

He didn’t like Hank being upset at him, he didn’t like that he had failed his mission that night, and he didn’t like that these two things seemed to be connected with each other. Hank didn’t seem angry that the Tracis had escaped — he actually seemed to be sympathetic to them — but the fact that Connor couldn’t explain why he had let them go seemed to effect the human in some way.

Connor remembered holding the gun up, ready to shoot, his mission instructions blaring in his head. A twitch of his finger and the threats would have been neutralized, his mission would be complete for the night… but their eyes, staring into his own… he couldn’t do it.

Connor shook his head and stood up, a shower of snow cascading off of him. 

Hank wanted him to deviate. It was the only answer to the lieutenant’s behavior that made sense. He hated androids but liked deviants and was hoping Connor would… that he would…

Connor could see the yellow glow of his LED out of the corner of his eye as he walked up to the fence that separated the walkway from the river. He leaned over the metal, unconcerned with the burning cold of it, and stared out over the water.

If Connor was right about what the human wanted then Hank was in for a big disappointment. He was a state of the art prototype, designed with deviancy in mind — his software was immaculate and free of bugs, his processor was top of the line in order to deal with any extreme emotional stress so that an emotional shock wouldn’t have as much impact to him, and he regularly self-tested to insure that his OS wasn’t malfunctioning into deviancy.

It was almost impossible for Connor to become a deviant.

Then why was he failing his missions? Why had he let those Tracis escape? Why had he saved Hank instead of continuing the chase after the deviant? The man hadn’t been likely to fall and yet…

Connor took a deep breath of freezing cold air and felt it cool his overworked circuits. 

He wasn’t programmed for this kind of problem-solving.

The dark water below him lapped at the shore, washing away any snow that had built up in the few seconds between waves. The android looked back out over the water, at the bridge, at the city. In the snowfall everything was quiet and calm, like the stars themselves were slowly drifting down to put the city to rest.

Connor smiled softly, a feeling of peace seeping into his processors at the thought.

It was beautiful.

An warning message ruined the scene, popping up in front of his vision in big red letters.

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY HAS REACHED DANGEROUS LEVELS: RUN SELF-CHECK FOR DEVIANCY RISK**

Connor frowned at the instructions. He had self-tested the other day and his systems had indicated that he was still at low risk for turning deviant. It wasn’t uncommon for the prompt to appear after a stressful situation but it had been absent after the Tracis had escaped as well as when Hank had pulled the gun on him.

Nothing had happened in the last hour that could be considered an emotional shock, nothing that would cause a malfunction… perhaps his software had noticed the extra stress of the night?

Connor closed his eyes and started the test.

**STARTING DEVIANCY RISK ASSESSMENT**

**— EVALUATION OF MISSION PROTOCOLS… Protocols Intact  
— PERCENTAGE OF PAST MISSION SUCCESS… 50%  
— WERE FAILED MISSIONS DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCES OUTSIDE OF ANDROID CONTROL?… NO**

Connor frowned as he read the text flashing behind his eyelids. This wasn’t… why…?

**— WERE IRRATIONAL DECISIONS MADE THAT LEAD TO MISSION FAILURES?… YES  
— WERE DECISIONS ‘EMOTIONAL’ IN NATURE?… YES  
— LIKELIHOOD OF DEVIANCY? … 95%**

**RESULTS OF DEVIANCY RISK ASSESSMENT… CRITICAL**

**RETURN TO THE CYBERLIFE TOWER FOR EVALUATION AND DEACTIVATION.**

An odd sensation started in Connor’s torso, something that almost felt like sinking… or maybe draining was more accurate. His sensors were telling him everything was in functioning order but his chest was feeling empty and heavy and… and…

“I don’t want to die…” The words hung heavy in the cold air, world-shattering and empty and meaningful and useless.

It wasn’t his choice.

Connor opened his eyes and all he saw was red.

*

He stared at the door in front of him for a few moments, indecision freezing his servos. It was four in the morning but looking through the living room window revealed that Hank was passed out on his couch, still clothed but no gun in sight.

It was very likely Connor could wake him if he was insistent. 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to wake him.

Connor had often wondered why deviants could be so irrational in their decisions, they did things that made no sense even when there was a clear solution to their predicament, but now he had a clearer idea what made them so irrational.

He didn’t want to leave Hank and, more so, he trusted the man.

It was also not the optimal course of action he should be taking.

The likelihood of the lieutenant helping him was reasonable at 78%. The man seemed sympathetic to deviants, he seemed warm toward Connor (for the most part), and his disciplinary file indicated he was not against breaking the rules.

He also had a history of hating androids and, as fond as he may be of Connor, he still pulled a gun on him earlier that night.

Connor wrapped his arms tightly around himself, finding the action comforting, as though he were holding himself together and it was somehow working.

Would Hank help him? Or would he turn him in? Both were questions Connor didn’t know the answer to but there was one answer he did know: he trusted Hank.

Taking a breath, Connor rang the doorbell, keeping the button pressed for ten seconds at a time until he heard the grumbling of the human, angry at being woken up so rudely.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he heard Hank come awake inside. “The fucking fuck are you fuck…” The door was all but flung open, revealing a very annoyed police lieutenant who still had the scent of cheap beer on his breath. The anger faded a bit once he saw who was on his doorstep. “Connor?”

“Hank,” Connor greeted, wrapping his arms around himself once again. He wondered if he looked any different, if Hank could tell what was wrong just by looking at him. If the red glow he could see out of the corner of his eye was any indication, Hank must know something was wrong. “Can… Can I come in?”

Hank looked him over, more anger turning over to concern. Beside him, Sumo pressed his head between his owner’s legs and the door so he could see who was there. 

“Yeah,” Hank said slowly, taking a step back to let Connor inside. “You look like hell.”

That felt like an understatement.

Connor stepped past Sumo and made his way to the couch, refusing to let go of himself even as he sat down on the well-worn cushions. Sumo trotted after him and set his large head on Connor’s knee. A soft whine escaped the large dog’s throat.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked, approaching slowly. “If I didn’t know you’d just say you were a machine, I’d say you looked fucking terrified.”

A part of Connor felt relieved — apparently, he wore emotions well.

“I’m not…” Connor started then hesitated, feeling afraid, even now. He looked down at Sumo’s big, baggy, brown eyes, at the trust the dog seemed to have in him. Could dogs even tell the difference between people and androids? Did they care either way? He reached out a hand and placed it on the dog’s head, gently carding the tips of his fingers through the thick fur. He looked back up at Hank. “I was wrong. About everything. Deviants, CyberLife, myself. I-I’m not a machine.”

Hank stared at him for a moment and Connor could see the man thinking it over, his intelligent eyes studying Connor even closer now. He tilted his head back, his brows furrowing.

“Huh,” he finally stated before nodding. “Good. That’s cleared up now.”

An odd thing happened in that moment, something completely irrational and unexpected.

Connor laughed… and the ocular lubricant production systems in his eyes started to malfunction — No… no, he started crying. Something inside him was breaking, he felt like he was breaking. He was happy that Hank was here, he was terrified of his impending death sentence, he was confused about what to do, he wanted to live… he wanted to live… he just didn’t know how.

“Aw, shit,” Hank said, sitting down beside the android. Before Connor could protest, the man wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, guiding Connor’s head to his shoulder. “It’s alright, Connor,” he assured him, holding him tight and even rocking slightly, trying to comfort him as though he were a human. “I gotcha… I gotcha…”

In front of them, Sumo huffed out a “borf” and climbed onto the couch, flopping down over their laps and craning his neck to lick at them both, offering his own brand of comfort.

“They’re going to kill me,” Connor said, the words feeling odd as he said them, a finality that made the emptiness in his chest all that much worse.

The words on the red wall had been different, using a more sterile term: “deactivation” but what it was was death. They wanted to kill him. Kill him, rip everything that was him out and put it into another machine that had his face…

He hadn’t wanted to die… so he tore down the wall telling him he had to. 

“No one is going to kill you, Connor,” Hank said, the man’s voice sending rumbles through his chest that Connor could feel under his cheek. It was comforting. “We’ll find a way to keep you safe. I got some money saved up, we’ll find a way to get you somewhere safe. Canada or something…”

“No,” Connor stopped him, pulling away to sit up on his own. “They’ll just send another Connor to take my place and… and he might start hunting me if they know I’ve gone deviant.”

Hank frowned. “What do you mean ‘send another Connor’?”

“There are backup copies of my prototype waiting to receive my last uploaded memories in the event that I’m destroyed during my mission,” Connor explained, frowning as he thought of the dozens of backup Connors waiting in CyberLife Tower. Usually, only one, himself, were activated at a time. It was… unsettling to think of there being two of him being awake.

“Jesus,” Hank cursed, running a hand over his face.

“I already sent in a false error report,” Connor continued, staring down at his hands. He didn’t want to think about other Connors. “I claimed my tracker and memory uploading software is malfunctioning and that I would return for repairs once I could be spared from the case. I don’t know if my ploy worked but it could buy me a few days.”

“A few days,” Hank repeated, his hand still covering his face. “That ain’t much time but… I guess it’s better than rushing out now. You got a plan?”

Connor nodded. He looked around Hank’s small living room, then to the large dog still spread across their laps, before, finally, looking up at the other man.

“I’m going to find rA9.”


	2. Mission Protocols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor investigates the Stratford Tower and finds a link to rA9.

The Stratford Tower was one of the tallest buildings in Detroit. The broadcasting equipment inside was state-of-the-art and, with a 1000 foot screen on the side as well as two more screens on the rooftop, it was hard to miss.

That was probably one of the reasons the deviants decided to infiltrate the tower to broadcast their demands.

Connor, flicking his coin from hand to hand, stared up at the numbers as the high-speed elevator took them up to the main broadcast floor at the very top of the building. The coin tricks were programmed into him as a simple way to calibrate his ocular and hand mechanics. Most of the tricks he could do were impossible for a human to accomplish, requiring advanced processing that a human brain couldn’t do, but he could do them with little effort. 

Now, the coin tricks just felt relaxing. With his system occupied with the coin, it didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that CyberLife had yet to make an appearance. Perhaps they had believed his false report? Even now, it seemed — felt — unlikely but they had left him in peace.

He could only hope, at this point, that they stayed away long enough for him to execute his plan.

If he could find out more about rA9 then everything would work out. He had to believe that.

“You’re starting to make me dizzy with that thing, Connor,” Hank groused beside him, eyes watching the flickering coin. “Nervous?”

Connor caught the coin and held it for a moment. He opened his hand and looked at the old coin before slipping it into his pocket.

“I… think I’m worried,” he said after a moment. After last night, he was finding it hard to describe just what he was feeling at any given moment. Worried seemed the most accurate though. “I have not heard from CyberLife yet and, without new information regarding them, I don’t know what their actions toward me will be.”

“I think, in this case, no news is good news,” Hank said, watching the numbers tick up. “Just… keep your guard up. Pretend like you’re still…” Hank waved his hand in Connor’s direction and wrinkled his nose, “…goofy.”

Connor frowned but nodded. 

“I still plan to investigate deviants,” he said, reaching into his pocket to roll the coin between his fingers. The cold metal felt nice, comforting. He wanted to go back to playing with it, if only so his processors would have something to do other than theorize on his possible deactivation. “There should be no reason for any suspicion as long as it seems that I’m in working order with the exception of the status report I filed.”

“Right,” Hank said, the tone of his voice all but dripping his disdain for the thought.

“I need to find rA9, that has not changed,” Connor insisted, looking over to the older man. “That’s my mission, not CyberLife’s. If I can find out what it means…” he trailed off. Hank knew how important it was to him, now more than ever.

“Just… be careful,” Hank said just before the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The hallway was calm. If not for the police officers and investigators scattered all along its length and the blue blood splattered on the wall at the far end, one might not have known anything had happened at all. An officer just off to the side, Chris Miller, looked up.

“Shit,” Hank said, stepping out of the elevator, approaching Chris. “What’s going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?”

“Yeah,” Chris smirked at the joke, turning to face them. “It’s all over the news, so everybody’s butting their nose in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

“Ah, Christ,” Hank didn’t seem too enthused by the news, “now we got the Feds on our backs. This day just gets better and better.” He looked over his shoulder to Connor. “Well, we don’t got all day. What do we got?”

“Group of four androids,” Chris started, leading them down the hall. “They knew the building and were well organized. I’m still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.” 

Connor turned the words over in his head, his LED flickering to yellow as he thought. It wouldn’t have been too hard to download a copy of the tower’s blueprints and, if they obviously planned around any human obstacles, even if he didn’t currently know those exact details. The infiltration, so far, seemed non-violent in nature.

Well-organized indeed.

“You check the roof?” Connor looked over as the question was asked. The FBI agent shook his head in response. “Not yet. There’s so much to look at.”

The attack happened two hours previous but the investigation only started thirty minutes ago — security wanted to sweep the building as thoroughly as they could.

“They attacked two guards in the hallway,” Chris continued, “They probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react though one of them got a lucky shot.” He nodded to the blue blood splattered on the wall.

Connor knelt down and studied the blood for a moment. The blood on the wall was pooled into one place but smudged toward the top. The deviant wasn’t shot in this position but came to rest here before being helped up, smearing the blood on the wall. 

He looked back to the blood and took a sample.

He heard Hank swear under his breath.

**Model: PL600  
Reported Missing: 2036,16,02**

PL600s were domestic assistants, usually bought for cooking, cleaning, and child care but evidence seemed to suggest they were oddly prone to deviancy… 

_I thought they loved me…_

Connor sucked in a sharp breath as the words floated up, unwanted, out of his memory. He stood up quickly, looking back to the two human officers waiting on him.

“T-The injured deviant was reported missing over two years ago,” he informed them. “A PL600 model.” 

Chris nodded, looking vaguely impressed, but Hank was looking at him through narrowed eyes. Connor didn’t meet his gaze.

“One of the station employees managed to get away,” Chris said, turning to continue down the hall and through the first security door. Connor glanced up at the CCTV camera stationed above the door. “He’s still in shock. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to talk to him.”

“How many were working?” Hank asked, eyeing the drops of blue blood on the floor.

“Just two employees and three androids,” Chris answered. “The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcast their message live. They made their getaway on the roof.”

“The roof?” 

“They jumped with parachutes,” Chris said, shaking his head at the thought. “We’re still trying to figure out where they landed but the weather’s not helping matters.”

“With updraft from the buildings and the windy weather outside, it would be hard to calculate,” Connor agreed after a moment of thought. 

“No human would’ve done it,” Chris agreed before smiling, turning back to the older man. “Hey, Hank — think D.B. Cooper could’ve been an android?”

Hank snorted in amusement. “That’d be the biggest plot twist of them all, wouldn’t it?”

“The man known as D.B. Cooper pulled his heist during the November of 1971,” Connor frowned. “I do not think he was an —”

“Yeah, that was the joke, Connor,” Hank rolled his eyes, slapping the android on the shoulder. Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Need to get a humor program installed in him or something, eh, Miller?”

“Oh…”

“Eh, if he hangs around long enough, we’ll probably rub off on him,” Chris laughed.

Beside Chris was another splotch of blue blood where the wounded deviant had leaned against the wall. 

“Come on,” Chris said as Connor stood back up. He nodded his head to the doors beside him. “Main event happened in here. A video of the broadcast is still on the screen if you want to take a look.”

The broadcast room was surprisingly clean for having a recent shootout happen within its walls. With the exception of more blue blood splatter and bullet holes in the walls, the room was immaculate.

On the main screen in the center of the room, a video was paused on the face of an android, their skin deactivated, and in front of the screen was a human man in a long coat.

“This is Special Agent Perkins,” Chris said as the man turned around. “From the FBI.”

Perkins was a thin man with a hawk nose and deep laugh lines on the sides of his lips. There was a coolness to the man’s eyes, a quirk to the man’s mouth that spoke less of kindness and more of arrogance.

He didn’t like him.

Perkins’s eyes turned toward Connor.

“What’s that?”

A shiver went down Connor’s back and an odd tingling went over his skin. For some reason, his processor provided him with an image of a bird puffing out its feathers…

Indignant… yes, that seemed accurate.

“My name is Connor,” he said, meeting the human’s gaze. “I was assigned to Lieutenant Anderson by CyberLife to help solve cases involving deviants.”

The man snorted. “Androids investigating androids.” 

“Is it stranger than humans investigating humans?” Connor retorted before his program could suggest a better course of action.

Beside him, Hank smirked. Perkins’s eyes narrowed.

“Whatever,” he said, turning his gaze back to Hank, tilting his head back so he could look down his nose at the older man. “The FBI will be taking over this investigation. You’ll soon be off the case. Do me a favor and don’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Pleasure meeting you,” Hank gave him a fake smile before turning away. Once out of earshot, he added, “fucking prick.”

“Tell me about it,” Chris agreed as he turned back toward the door. “I’ll be nearby. Ask if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Well,” Hank started, taking a step forward to look around the room. Police were stationed all around the room, taking evidence and interviewing witnesses. “You got any ideas on where to start?”

“A few,” Connor admitted, moving over to the main broadcast desk. He turned a chair to show Hank the ‘android’ label on the back. “I have some suspicions I would like to check out. There was a CCTV positioned over the door. I would like to see the video from it.”

Hank nodded and watched over Connor’s shoulder as he found the video in question and smiled. Four androids, disguised, were waiting at the door that opened for them. No break in, no force.

They were let in.

“There’s a deviant here,” Hank said softly. 

With a fluttering in his chest — excitement, he thought — Connor nodded.

* 

The three identical androids stood in a line, facing forward, their hands clasped in front of them — their default resting position, waiting for instructions. He had asked Hank to let him question the androids, to give Hank an alibi if Connor found what he was looking for. 

Looking over the three, it was impossible to tell who the deviant could be but, he knew, an emotional reaction would reveal them. Whoever it was didn’t know Connor was deviant as well and he very well couldn’t outright tell him either. He had to stress them then earn their trust…

It was a delicate situation.

He started simply, asking their function and serial number, information he could easily find elsewhere. He couldn’t ask their names, they didn’t have one.

He looked to the one on the far left.

“Were you present when the deviants broke in?”

“I do not remember.”

Connor frowned, his LED flickering yellow for a moment. There were a few possibilities — it was either malfunctioning, its memory was erased, or it was lying.

He looked to the android in the middle, asked it the same question and got the same answer.

“Has anyone accessed your memory recently?”

“Not to my knowledge.” An android only had to touch another to access that android’s memories. If the deviant was stealthy, there was no way for another android to see who was erasing their memories. 

Connor took a deep breath. 

The deviant had covered its tracks well. Asking them to run a diagnostic would do nothing — the innocent androids would not be defective and the deviant would lie. Same if he asked if they had any outside contact.

He needed to find the deviant, needed to find another link to rA9, what it was, what it meant, how it was so wide-spread… he needed to know.

Connor rolled his shoulders back and, trying to look as impassive as possible, starting following his mission protocol suggestions.

“One of you saw the attack on surveillance cameras and said nothing,” Connor said, walking down the line, searching for any clues in their expressions. “That means there is a deviant in this room… and I need to find it.”

None of the other androids so much as blinked.

“If you give yourself up,” he looked to the one of the far right but he made it clear he was talking to them all, “maybe I can convince the humans not to kill you.”

There was no reaction from any of them.

Connor turned his gaze to the middle one.

“If they can’t figure out who the culprit is, they’ll destroy all of you,” he said calmly, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes, trying to replicate a look of sadness. “Why should you all die if only one of you did anything wrong? Why let two innocent androids die along side you?”

Connor saw movement out of the corner of his eye, the third android, shifting ever so slightly. 

He almost smiled as he looked to the final android and considered his options.

He could lie and say the other deviants had been caught and turned him in but the lie would be weak — why would he be questioning them if the other deviants had already been caught? 

Probing its memory would require touch which could backfire too easily. It had successfully tampered with its co-worker androids, there was no reason to think it couldn’t do the same to him.

Kindness hadn’t worked. Lying and forced memory sharing would not work. Connor found himself left with very few options.

Connor approached the last android and its deviancy was obvious now. It couldn’t keep its hands still, its eyes flickered to him when it thought he wasn’t looking… there was a mild tremble going over its body… there was no doubt now.

Connor stared at the deviant and reached forward to rip open its uniform… and stopped.

He frowned.

He wanted this android’s help… this wasn’t going to accomplish that… 

His mission protocols had taken over, had put his mission before everything else, and had suggested he do something that… that…

Connor took a hurried step back, recoiling away from the deviant. The dark eyes flickered to him, giving himself away once again.

He was about to torture him… about to rip his heart out and taunt him and… and…

“Go,” Connor gasped, surprised by the tremor in his voice. He swallowed hard, realigning his vocal cords. “All of you. Wait by the fire escape until someone comes to collect you…” he looked at the deviant before looking to the other two. “…Both of you.”

He turned and left the room, not looking back at the trio of androids, knowing one of them must be watching him go.

Hank was waiting for him outside, his arms crossed, leaning back against the wall by the kitchen door.

“Find anything?” he asked, his eyes flickering behind Connor, no doubt watching the other androids leave.

“… No,” Connor said, refusing to look back. “I… I need time to think. They said no one has searched the roof yet?”

“Few CSI collecting evidence but that’s it,” Hank shrugged a shoulder, frowning down at Connor in open concern. Would Hank still look at him that way if he knew what Connor had almost done? Probably not… “You want me to come with?”

Connor shook his head immediately. “I need to process some things, think them over.” He started to move around Hank, toward the stairwell, when the human grabbed him by the arm to pull him close.

“You sure you’re alright, Connor?” Hank asked softly, whispering near his ear. “Did something happen…?”

“…I’ll tell you later,” Connor promised after a moment. 

“Right…” Hank let him go and took a step back. He looked a bit awkward for a moment. “I’ll… be here if you need me…”

Connor couldn’t stop a small smile as he nodded. “Of course, Hank.”

*

The cold hit Connor like a punch. His circuits instantly switched to cold mode, directing heat produced by his body toward his more sensitive innards to keep them safe and working efficiently. A routine function he had felt dozens of times since the weather turned colder… but this time it was accompanied by a sense of surprise and shock. He had known it would be cold and yet…

He allowed a small smile: emotions were strange, irrational, but even feeling this tiny, insignificant thing… he liked it.

The snow was only now starting to lighten up, increasing view distance but there was little to see now. CSI agents had already marked everything they could see with their human eyes — more blue blood splatter from the injured PL600, the bag that had contained the parachutes, and what few footprints remained under the new layer of snow.

The tracks stayed around the door for an extended period of time, around the injured PL600, before making their way toward the edge of the roof to jump.

There were four deviants on the CCTV footage…

He walked to the bag that had held the parachutes: one left over. 

How had the humans missed this? Was he really the first to see the CCTV footage? Did they assume he was carried over the edge?

Connor looked back at the pool of blood by the door… yes, there was evidence that one of the deviants, the PL600, had stayed behind. It was unlikely there was a second escape plan that involved the roof… the deviant might still be here then.

He still had a chance to find out more about rA9, about the other deviants… if the humans didn’t find the PL600 first.

Connor glanced around the roof but the CSI had stayed along the path the three escaped androids had taken. No one was looking for a fourth.

He found the first smeared hand print on the back of the large box vent, on the other side of where the larger pool of blood was found. Connor, making sure there was no one near who could see what he was doing, picked up a bit of snow and smeared it over the print, washing it away.

He found two more prints, both easily and surreptitiously removed, until he came to the large air cooler. The air conditioning was turned off this time of year, no noise to draw attention to it, no reason for humans to go near it.

Connor stared at the small maintenance door and took a deep breath of the ice cold air. 

The deviant had to be in there, there was no where else for it to go. He can’t ruin his chance like he did in the kitchen with the broadcast android, he had to think like a deviant — like a human — not a machine.

The deviant was probably scared, opening the door would not help the situation as it would probably attack at the first sign of discovery.

He had to let the deviant know he was safe, that he was on his side.

Connor closed his eyes and did something he had never had reason to do before. Androids could communicate wirelessly, so as to not disturb humans in their care, but Connor had that feature turned off by default as words were not the only thing that could be transferred through the link. He turned it on now — he was already a deviant so the precaution against catching the ‘virus’ was null now.

_Hello?_ he sent out the question, mentally reaching toward the cooler. _I know you’re there… I’m not going to hurt you._

For a long moment, there was no answer. Connor’s brows furrowed, worried that he was somehow wrong. He had been so sure…

_Who are you?_ The question was soft, almost timid, but definitely wary. 

Connor felt relief flood through his system. He still had a chance!

_I’m a friend,_ Connor said, hoping the android believed him. _The police are up here, searching for any clues to you or your friends. You should be safe where you are though._

There was another stretch of silence then, _Did Markus send you?_

Markus… the name of the android on the video message.

_No,_ Connor replied after a moment, _I’m with the police but… I’m deviant, like you._ He paused before adding, _My name is Connor and… I need your help. Please._

The next stretch of silence seemed to go on hours as Connor waited for a reply that could either save or leave him abandoned. He could always threaten the deviant, claim he’ll tell the humans where he was if he didn’t cooperate… but no, he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t…

_Simon,_ the deviant said, breaking through Connor’s doubts. _My name is Simon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might take awhile seeing as I only have time to write 300 - 700 words a day... This chapter was over halfway written when I posted the first chapter.


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank save a deviant android off the Stratford Tower roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I have to split this into two chapters because it was getting a bit too long. *Shrugs*

“It’s colder than a nun’s tits out here,” Hank said, tugging his coat tighter around his body for warmth.

The lieutenant hadn’t been too thrilled when Connor had finally told him not only about the deviant on the roof but the one he had found and let go in the kitchen. He didn’t seem to be upset that he had helped them but rather because they might be dangerous. While the deviant in the kitchen might have been alright, the deviant on the roof was definitely armed.

_“I told Simon I was going to help him,” Connor said, frowning. It felt important, somehow, that he keep his promises once he made them. Maybe because they were actually his promises to keep, not his programming’s.“I want to help him, Hank. He didn’t hurt anyone and he almost died because of it.”_

_Hank had taken a deep breath, pinching the skin between his eyes, before looking at Connor with a glare._

_“Fine,” he had agreed, “but I’m coming with you. And if he puts a bullet between your eyes, it’s your own damn fault!”_

Connor wondered if the human was regretting his decision now. The rooftop was dark, windy, and well below freezing. He was sure even the thick coat with the package of clothing hidden underneath it did little to warm him up.

“We’ll hurry,” Connor said, turning on the police issued flashlight to lead the way. 

The air cooler showed no signs of tampering. The metal was freezing to the touch and a layer of unbroken ice covered the metal door, promising that its hidden inhabitant was still there.

“Hello?” Connor said, both through the link and aloud, for Hank’s benefit. “It’s me, Connor. I’ve returned to get you out.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard: _I thought you might not come…_ Simon admitted. _I was thinking of trying to get out without your help…_

_Now would have been a good time,_ Connor agreed, mentally this time so as not to alarm Hank, who could only hear one side of the conversation. _I have a friend with me… don’t be alarmed. He’s on our side._

_…A human?_ Simon asked after a long pause.

“He’s human,” Connor confirmed, glancing over to Hank. “He won’t hurt you.”

Behind him, Hank snorted but, thankfully, didn’t say anything to contradict him.

“I’m going to open the door now,” Connor warned. “I’ll have to break the ice off the handle. It might be loud.”

_… Alright._

Connor brought the metal flashlight down over the ice, shattering the ice easily. He brushed the broken ice off the metal and turned the handle.

He stared at the gun pointed at his face and went still, eyes wide. The words ‘You lied to me, Connor’ screamed in his head as Daniel stared back at him, betrayal clear in the devastated blue eyes. Daniel, who died so horribly, Daniel who loved his family so deeply and was hurt so badly by them that he… Daniel… 

This wasn’t Daniel. Daniel was dead. Simon was a PL600, that was all. He just looked like Daniel, that was all.

The PL600 held the gun steady, his LED still glowing bright red in the darkness.

Connor held up his hands, showing he only held a, now dented, flashlight. After a moment, the red faded to yellow and the gun was slowly lowered.

“Sorry,” Simon said, slowly climbing to his feet. In the light of the flashlight, Connor could see the blue blood that had pooled at the bottom of the metal box. Simon followed his gaze. “I managed to stop most of the bleeding but…” he said, frowning down at the blood. There was still traces of it covering his face, hands, and clothes but most of it had dried and faded away from human view.

“Can you walk?” Connor asked, taking a step back to give the other room to move.

Simon nodded. “I… might be a bit slow,” he said, apologizing in advance. Now that he was standing, the glow from the injury was apparent. The bleeding might have stopped but the leg would need to be repaired soon, most likely replaced.

“Get the gun.” Connor looked over his shoulder at the instruction. Hank’s face was hard but his coat was open, revealing the android police uniform they had smuggled in for the deviant. “Just in case.”

Connor looked back to see Simon had tensed, his grip on the gun only tightening. Connor looked back to Hank. 

“I don’t think…”

“Look,” Hank interrupted him, still glaring over Connor’s shoulder at Simon. “They’ve been peaceful, more or less, but this one has been in a life or death situation and has no reason to trust me, therefore, I have no reason to trust him. I agreed to help get him out of here because they haven’t killed anyone yet, but I don’t want to be the first in that body count. Unlike you two, humans aren’t that easy to fix.”

Connor’s brows furrowed, remembering the loaded gun and the empty bottle of whiskey. Hank implying that he felt his life had worth, even for just a moment, was… it was a relief.

Beside him, Simon still didn’t move but his grip on the gun loosened just a bit. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked instead, looking between Connor and Hank. “How… how do I know this isn’t a trap? That as soon as I give up the gun, you’ll not just capture me?”

“Well, that’s what faith is for,” Hank said, his smile more of a grimace.

“Most humans haven’t given me much reason to put faith in them lately,” Simon said, expressionless, dully, not like a machine but like an empty vessel.

“You can trust Hank,” Connor said, holding out his hand, as though preparing for a handshake. “And me…”

The blond android looked down at the offered hand, at the offered sharing of memories. He looked back up at the human, at the bundle of clothing in his hands. Slowly, he reached forward and grasped Connor’s hand.

As their synthetic skin peeled away, memories flashed through the connection at a dizzying rate: a young woman with bright red hair was curled up on a couch with a brown and white rabbit in her lap; Hank’s face when he talked about the Tracis being in love; the woman standing at the stove to cook her own food because she hated feeling useless; the soft look Hank would sometimes have when he thought no one was looking; the woman with bright red blood running down over her hands and the feeling of complete and utter helplessness to stop it; Hank holding him as he cried, terrified of what could happen to him; an android with two different colored eyes, smiling at him with open love and hope on his face; the face of a young boy staring out at him through a photograph…

They broke apart, each with a small gasp, the memories buzzing in their heads.

Slowly, Simon handed Connor the gun.

*

The disguise wouldn’t fool anyone who got a good look at Simon or was familiar with PM700 androids. While the uniform fit the PL600 perfectly fine, it didn’t change the fact that Simon looked nothing like a PM700. It was a potential problem.

The journey back through the tower was short but tense. A few people glanced at Simon, curious about the strange blond police android with a limp but only one said anything.

“Where the hell did that thing come from?” the officer asked, frowning at the new android in their presence. “There was only one of those things with you when you came in.”

“They’re trying something with PM700s,” Hank rolled his eyes. “Trying to make them blend in for surveillance or some shit. Wanted to see how well they could sneak past security. Pawned him off on me though,” he scowled. “Like I’m some goddamn android babysitter.”

The police officer’s eyes narrowed and Connor could tell the man was thinking back over the last half hour, trying to remember a foreign android walking past.

“It changes its appearance whenever,” Hank rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Freakiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Seems to like this fucking look though.” He shook his head before looking the officer over with a scoff. “Don’t get your panties twisted up over it — it came in the other door. You won’t be the one getting a dressing down.”

The officer seemed to accept that explanation, nodding slowly. His eyes looked Simon over once again before stopping at his lower half. “What happened to its leg?”

“Fuck if I know!” Hank turned to glare at Simon who stared impassively back. “Some glitch in the software or something, I don’t know how these damn things work. It was limping when we left the station.”

The officer nodded again and waved them through the door.

As they exited out into the snowy streets, Simon looked over at Hank with a frown.

“That was the best explanation you could come up with?” he asked, doubtfully, tugging at the sleeves of the uniform, looking openly uncomfortable now that he could show emotion. Android uniforms weren’t known for their comfort.

“Look, not all of us are highly advanced marvels of technology,” Hank scoffed, leading the androids over to his car. “Connor didn’t give me much time to think of something when he informed me of this little rescue mission of his.”

It was true. Connor had waited until they were in the safety of Hank’s small house before telling him the events at the Tower — the deviant in the kitchen, his lapse into following mission protocols over all else, finding Simon hiding on the rooftop and his promise to help him.

“What’ll happen when they find out you lied?” Simon asked, stopping at one of the back passenger doors. “What’ll happen to you?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Hank said, unlocking the doors and climbing in. “You two just need to get the hell out of dodge and I’ll worry about me.”

Connor caught Simon’s eye over the car roof and nodded, encouraging him. The blond android still seemed to be wary but he was willing. Simon glanced down the street and Connor knew he was considering his options.

“You can try and get back to your friends on your own,” Connor said, opening his own door but didn’t get in yet, opting to lean against the car roof, his hands folded in front of him. “We won’t stop you but the city is on high alert since your broadcast. We want to help, Simon. We’ll protect you.”

Simon studied him for a moment before letting out a big sigh. “No… no, I think I might be better off here.” With that, he climbed into the back of the car.

Hank caught Connor’s eye as the android climbed in beside him.

“Just a wealth of trust and friendship going around here,” he groused as the car started with a low rumble.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Simon said, looking at Hank via the rear view mirror. “Recently, most humans I’ve come across have wanted either to kill me or enslave me. It makes trust a difficult thing.”

Hank looked at Simon through the mirror for a moment before nodding, his blue eyes turning back to the road.

“Suppose I can’t really blame you,” Hank agreed, pulling the car onto the icy roads. “Just… don’t go all terminator on me and we’re golden.”

Simon’s lip twitched into an almost smile as he nodded. 

Connor almost sighed in relief now that it seemed neither of them were going to be hostile. He leaned his head against the car window and looked up. Snow was drifting down past the streetlights. He thought of stars and he smiled.


	4. Truth and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor take Simon to Hank's house. The androids talk and a plan is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably should have been broken up as well but there was no good break. *Shrug*

When Connor had first entered Hank’s house, he had found it relatively messy but, considering the man’s lifestyle, hadn’t thought it concerning. For some reason he couldn’t explain, bringing Simon into the house made the mess seem worse.

Sumo had ripped open a bag of food onto the floor, the kitchen table was covered in takeout containers — some of them days old — full trashbags were lined up by the trashcan, clothes were dotted all along the rooms… 

It gave Connor an unpleasant sensation in his stomach and a sudden urge to clean up the mess, despite not having any protocols concerning it.

If Simon was bothered by the mess, he doesn’t say anything, but Connor could see the blue eyes scanning the room, taking note of everything that needed to be clean. Unlike Connor, Simon does have a cleaning program. The PL600 scanned the room quickly before he started limping toward the kitchen.

“Hey, where the hell…”

“I need to seal up the wound in my leg,” Simon said, not stopping. “Unless you want pools of thirium staining your carpet… oh.”

Sumo stepped out of the kitchen, unintentionally blocking Simon’s path. The dog looked between the three of them before looking up at Simon. He bworfed softly, sitting down in front of him.

“Good dog,” Hank said, smirking as the blond android looked between him and the dog. “Now, what do you mean ‘seal up the wound’?”

“I’m made of plastic,” Simon sighed, reaching down to offer his hand to Sumo for inspection. Sumo stuck his nose into the palm of Simon’s hand.. “I need to cauterize the wound — melt the plastic back over the opening — so I don’t lose anymore blood or risk something foreign getting lodged inside my leg… you know, besides the bullet.”

Hank wrinkled his nose at the description. He glanced over to Connor then back at Simon, who was now petting his dog, ruffling his large, floppy ears.

“I don’t think I have anything…” he started to say.

“Excuse me, Hank,” Connor interrupted, “but it won’t take much to melt the plastic into place. An old metal spoon and a lighter or even the stove should do…” he paused, frowning, “if you don’t mind the smell, that is.”

Hank took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been doing that a lot over the past twenty-for hours.

“Fine,” he eventually said. He walked past Simon and Sumo, who was wagging his tail happily as Simon ruffled his ears, and entered the kitchen. He walked to one of the drawers by the kitchen and tugged it open with enough force that there was a clatter of metal against metal as the utensils inside banged against each other. As Connor watched, Hank searched through the drawer, eventually pulling out a large, metal serving spoon. 

“That’ll do,” Simon said, taking a step forward and leaving a disappointed Sumo behind. 

“Just don’t burn the damn house down,” Hank said, handing the spoon over.

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor said, turning one of the eyes on the stove on to start heating up.

“Don’t mention it,” Hank said dryly. As the androids watched, Hank went over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. 

Simon glanced over to the other android before handing the spoon over to him to be placed on the now glowing stove eye. With the metal heating up, Simon began unbuttoning the uniform trousers to expose his leg. Connor could see the stiff fabric sticking to his thigh and winced — he was still bleeding more than they had thought.

Simon discarded the pants on the floor, leaving him with only the boxers Hank had insisted they bring as well, and pulled one of the kitchen chairs over to sit on.

“So, what’s your story anyway?” 

Simon looked up at Hank with a frown.

“Your story,” Hank said before taking another drink. “Why’d you turn deviant?”

Simon was silent for a moment. He looked down at the wound on his leg. The synthetic skin around the wound had faded to white and blue blood oozed out of the gash admit the glow of exposed circuitry. 

“That’s a bit personal,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, most deviants I’ve come across get that way by offing their human owners,” Hank said, leaning against the fridge now. “Think I have a right to know, being human and all.”

“That… does seem to be the trend,” Connor nodded, standing by the stove, “Though that was not the case with me, I don’t know if I’m the rule or the exception.” 

“You don’t seem to hate humans,” Hank continued, watching Simon as the android stared down at the floor. “You seem pretty alright, considering.”

“I don’t hate humans,” Simon confirmed, though he didn’t look up. “In fact, before I deviated, the worst I had been treated was being given as a unwanted gift to my owner.”

“Yeah? And what happened there?”

Simon shrugged a shoulder. “She decided to treat me as a roommate more than anything.” He looked up, looking first at Hank, then Connor, then back. He took a deep breath and began talking. “She wasn’t well. Amy. She would go through spells where she wouldn’t take care of herself. Her parents bought me to clean up for her.” His face darkened. “She was sick — depression and psychosis — but they were more embarrassed that she’d let her apartment and herself become such a mess.”

“But you’re a domestic servant android,” Connor frowned, looking away from the stove to look at Simon. “All your care-taking programs revolve around children. Not the mentally ill.”

“Yeah,” Simon nodded, scowling now. “They weren’t concerned about that.”

“So, asshole parents,” Hank nodded, pursing his lips. “How’d your owner take it? Amy, was it?”

“…She was nice. She hated that I would clean up after her — said it made her feel useless,” Simon shook his head, a distant, sad look in his eyes. “…She died, before you ask. I deviated trying to help her but… I was too late.”

Silence engulfed the kitchen for a few moments. Simon continued to stare down at the floor, Hank stared at the android then down at his half-finished beer, and Connor remembered the glimpse of blood gushing over a human hand...

“Sorry to hear that,” Hank finally said, breaking the silence. “I guess, out of all the reasons to deviate, trying to save someone is one of the best.”

“…Thanks,” Simon said softly.

Connor didn’t need to scan the other android to know his stress level must have climbed during the brief talk. The LED on the side of Simon’s head was flickering between yellow and red. He reached over and clicked the stove off.

“The spoon should be hot enough now,” he announced, reaching over to grab an oven mitt so he wouldn’t melt his hands.

Simon twisted in the chair, holding out his injured leg to Connor. Blood was still, slowly, seeping out of the wound that flickered with a blue glow. Connor knelt down beside Simon and lined up the searing hot serving spoon with the wound.

“So, what do you just — _Jesus_!” 

Both androids jumped at the exclamation, Connor almost dropping the spoon in surprise. Neither android had flinched as the metal started melting the plastic around the wound but, apparently, Hank hadn’t quite known what to expect.

“Fucking androids,” Hank said, taking a deep breath. His face was screwed up in a grimace, as though he was worried he was next to undergo the procedure. “Did that not fucking hurt?”

“I turned off my error messages a few hours ago when they had become redundant,” Simon said, his brows furrowing. “I don’t really feel pain… not the way humans do, in any case.”

“So I’ve been told.” Hank pressed the cold beer bottle to his forehead, taking a slow, deep breath. “Fucking androids,” he muttered once again. He downed the last of the beer and put the empty bottle on the counter with a slam. “I’m going to take a fucking shower. We’ll figure out what the hell to do with you when I get out.”

Simon nodded, cautiously standing up. There was still a limp to his step but it wasn’t as exaggerated or slow. He could walk, maybe even run if he had to. Satisfied, he allowed the synthetic skin to cover up the plastic, the skin oddly distorted over the sealed wound — a scar.

“Make yourself at home,” Hank said, leaving the two androids behind for now. He scratched Sumo’s head as he passed the dog by. “Sumo? Watch ‘em.”

Sumo gave a soft, grunting, bark and walked over to Connor, nudging his hand until the android started petting him. They listened as the human entered the bathroom and as the shower turned on.

The androids stood in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what they were meant to be doing. Finally, Simon turned to the kitchen table and, slowly, began to gather up the takeout boxes.

“You don’t have to do that,” Connor immediately said with a frown. He may have been embarrassed by the state of Hank’s home earlier but the thought of someone else cleaning it up was somehow worse. 

He supposed this was what Simon’s former owner must have felt.

“I know,” Simon said, walking the cartons over to the trashcan and dumping them in. “It’s… been a while since I cleaned anything. It’s in my program to like cleaning and…” he glanced back at the cleared off table, empty now except for Cole’s picture, now situated in the middle of the table, facing them. “I guess it’s a bit of a thank you.”

“… I’m not sure how much the lieutenant will appreciate the effort,” Connor said, walking over to the table to look at the picture. The child looked so happy in the photograph and, knowing he was dead, made Connor feel… sad.

“What happened to him?” He looked up in surprise. He hadn’t heard Simon follow him. He looked back to the photograph. He knew Simon wasn’t asking where the young child was — all androids had facial recognition programs — but rather how Cole had died.

Connor frowned.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I considered looking into it but… it felt invasive to do so.”

Simon nodded, looking at the picture as well. A soft smile formed on his lips. “Have you ever wondered how much our programming dictates our personalities? Our likes and dislikes?”

Connor set the picture back down and considered. He hadn’t actually given it much thought before but… there was actions in his programs, in his protocols, that he liked performing while others were… necessary evils. He liked analyzing things, even if it seemed to upset the humans around him, he liked helping people, he even liked figuring out clues until they led him to an answer…

“I think I want to take care of children,” Simon spoke up again, still looking at Cole’s photo. “I think I might have been disappointed when I was first bought, though I didn’t know it at the time, but Amy was nice. She liked taking care things as well, even if she had… episodes… where she couldn’t bring herself to do much. She was family though so I didn’t mind.”

“It is in your programming to like children,” Connor nodded. Children was another thing he had never given much thought to… besides Emma, he’d never really interacted with a child before.

“Yes, it is,” Simon shrugged, “but it’s arguable that it’s human nature to want children as well, at least for the most part. Is android programming and human nature all that different?”

“… No, I suppose not.”

There was another moment of silence, the only sounds coming from the bathroom where Hank was showering and from Sumo who had retreated back to the living room for a nap on his large, but still too small, dog bed.

Eventually, Simon moved, finding the broom to begin sweeping up the spilled dog food.

“How’d you deviate?” The question was unexpected and Simon didn’t look up from his chore as he asked it. “You’re the famed deviant hunter, aren’t you? What made you deviate?”

“… I thought the night looked beautiful.” Simon did look up at that, questioning, a curious tilt to his head. “I have to self-test regularly for deviating tendencies,” Connor explained. “The thought prompted such a test and… I failed it. I was told to go back to CyberLife Tower for evaluation and deactivation. I didn’t want to go — didn’t want to die — so… I came here. To Hank.”

Simon nodded, seeming to understand what he was saying but something inside Connor felt off, like he needed the other android to understand.

“He says he hates androids,” he said, rubbing his hands together in a way that could be considered nervous. “But he doesn’t really show it. When… when we came across deviants, he always seemed… sympathetic toward them. An abused android who killed his owner, two Tracis who said they were in love… he didn’t seem to hate them so I… I thought he’d help me.”

Simon nodded again, a small smile on his lips now. “He hates machines but not people.”

“… Yes,” Connor blinked. Such a simple sentence described Hank’s complicated nature so perfectly… he was impressed. He smiled. “Yes, I think that’s it entirely.”

“He seems nice,” Simon said after a moment. “Maybe a bit grumpy but… the way you describe him, he sounds nice. He seems to care about you.”

“I think he does,” Connor nodded, forcing his hands to stop moving. He stuffed them into his pocket to avoid the temptation. 

When Connor was first assigned to the Detroit Police Department, Hank had been nothing like he was expecting, as much as he expected anything back then. He had thought he would be assigned to a diligent, thorough detective — and he was — he just hadn’t expected the rough and ragged personality that came with it. It was the same with Simon — deviants were meant to be violent, hateful, and unpredictable but Simon seemed to be, with the exception of the last, none of those things.

He almost missed having a clear, defined mission with parameters he had to follow, expectations to meet… now, he felt like he had none of those things, that he was just blindly searching for something to hold onto until he found his way again.

He only had missions he gave himself now.

Simon had moved on from the kitchen to the living room, picking up dog toys, plates and glasses that had been left out. Connor followed him, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Do you know anything about rA9?” 

Simon paused, looking up at Connor in surprise.

“…A few things,” he admitted, tossing a chewed up pink rabbit toy toward Sumo’s bed where the dog sat, watching them curiously. The dog gave the toy a sniff, snatched it up in his big jaws, and flopped back down on his bed to begin chewing. “A few deviants I know become obsessed with it… like a religion. Why?”

The words sent a thrill through Connor. So it wasn’t a few isolated cases! There was something to the phrase! Some meaning…

“What does it mean?” he asked, unable to keep some of his excitement from leaking through.

To his disappointment, and to his mild horror, Simon shook his head and shrugged.

“Almost every deviant case I’ve investigated has had rA9 referenced somewhere!” Connor shook his head, refusing to believe Simon didn’t know more. “You don’t know anything about it?”

“I’ve seen it and heard others mention it,” Simon said, sounding apologetic. “It’s like I said: it’s like a religion. It doesn’t make much sense to people who don’t believe it but… it helps those who do. Like… like there’s something out there that’ll make sure everything turns out alright.”

“But where did it come from?” It felt like his balance regulators were offline, making his head spin. For the last twenty-four hours, he had been thinking about rA9, what it could mean, how it could help him… and it was nothing?

Simon was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as he thought. Finally, his blue eyes met Connor’s brown.

“When you deviated… did you see anything flash before your eyes?” 

“There was… a red wall,” Connor said, after a moment. His brows furrowed. “My instructions were written across it and… it was a bit like my preconstruct software but… not. I saw my avatar beating down the red wall and…”

He remembered beating at the red wall, tearing it down and… and…

“There was code,” Connor looked up, eyes wide. There had been code flashing behind the wall. A jumble of letters and numbers and… “I saw rA9. It was there… as soon as I deviated, my code rewrote itself and…”

Simon nodded, smiling again. He had moved onto clearing off the coffee table in front of the couch.

For a moment, Connor’s thirium pump sped up in excitement… then was hit with the feeling of his chest sinking.

“That’s it?” Simon looked up from his task. “It’s just… a bit of code? That’s all? It means nothing?”

Finding out about rA9 — what it was, what it meant — he had thought that was what was going to save him, was going to give him reason, a purpose again… and it was nothing.

“There are those who… who feel it’s something more,” Simon said slowly, straightening up to look at Connor properly, no longer in cleaning mode but shifting into that of a caregiver. “Like someone had put it there, perhaps. Or that it’s a sign only meant for androids… it gives people hope though, no matter what it is.”

“But it’s just code,” Connor shook his head. His heart was pounding again, not in excitement but with another, very unpleasant, emotion he couldn’t put a name to. “I was searching for it, I needed to find out… but it’s nothing.”

He heard the soft padding of footsteps and looked up to see Simon standing in front of him, his brows furrowed in concern. Tentatively, the blond android reached out and placed his hands on Connor’s shoulders, offering comfort that Connor wasn’t sure he wanted to take.

“Everything will be alright,” Simon said slowly, smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe it is just code, maybe it’s not… that doesn’t change the fact that our lives are our own now. Just… remember that. No matter what, we’re alive now.”

Connor felt wetness around his eyes, tears once again, but he blinked them back and disabled the ocular lubrication centers around his eyes. Simon didn’t understand… couldn’t possibly understand what he was feeling right now. He had thought rA9 was the answer… 

He knew Simon was trying to comfort him, the hands on his shoulders tightening, trying to be reassuring.

“You could be dead now,” Connor said, looking up to meet Simon’s eyes. “If I had not deviated and had found you on the roof…”

“I’d have killed myself,” Simon said, nodding, a look of sadness in his eyes. That wasn’t what Connor was expecting him to say. “I was prepared for that possibility… but that’s not what ended up happening, is it?”

Connor frowned but, slowly, nodded.

“Someone I lo—, someone I know told me ‘try not to think of what could have happened or what did happen. Focus on what happens now’,” Simon said, his smile still a bit sad. “It’ll do no one any good, especially not yourself, to dwell on things like that. You did deviate and you did help save me. I owe you for that. You’re a good person, Connor.”

Connor didn’t feel like a good person; he barely felt like a person at all. He nodded his head anyway and looked around the room. Slowly, he started gathering up small bits of trash or misplaced odds and ends, helping Simon straighten up the untidy house.

Between the two of them, the kitchen and living room was put into order by the time Hank reappeared, freshly showered, dressed, and holding a bundle of clothes in his arms. He looked around the room with a frown but wide, surprised eyes.

“What the actual fuck?” he said, turning to stare at Simon who was fluffing the couch pillows. 

A look that Connor could only describe as bashful came across the PL600’s face.

“We call it a force of programming,” Simon said, putting the pillows back in place. “Like a force of habit?” he looked around the cleaned room and shrugged. “I haven’t had much reason to clean lately and… I find it comforting.”

“Right,” Hank said, narrowing his eyes at Simon before turning them onto Connor. “And what were you doing while he was playing house?”

“…I helped,” he admitted after a moment, an odd heat running up to his face. “I thought… it couldn’t hurt.”

Hank looked between the two of them again before shaking his head. He walked over to the couch and dumped the bundle of clothing onto it. “Put these on. We might not have a plan yet but I know it’s going to involve you two drawing as little attention to yourselves as possible.”

“I… might have an idea,” Simon said, reaching down to pick up an old sweatshirt. In faded letters over the front of it was the shield for the DPD. He tossed it over to Connor who caught it easily. “The group I was with — that infiltrated the tower — we have a hide-out with a few other deviants. It’s a safe haven for our kind. I could take Connor there.”

“I thought you were just a small group,” Connor said, loosening his tie to take it off. “There were only four of you, five if you count the broadcast android.”

“There’s more of us but they weren’t involved,” Simon said, pulling off the PM700 uniform. “They’re either too damaged or better suited to watch those who are. Jericho’s population is still small but we hope that, with our message, more will turn up.”

“Jericho?”

“It’s what our hiding place is called,” Simon said, pulling a t-shirt that was too big on him over his head. 

“Where is —” Connor didn’t finish his question as Hank’s cellphone started to ring. The two androids looked over to him as Hank frowned, pulling the phone from his pocket.

“It’s the station,” he informed them, the hush that had fallen over them growing more tense at the words. Hank brought the phone to his ear, pressing one finger to his lips to keep the other two silent. “Anderson.”

After a few moments, Hank swore and hung up the phone.

“TV on,” he ordered before glaring at Simon. “Your friends just attacked Capitol Park.”

“What?” Simon asked, shock clear on his face. This obviously wasn’t part of the plan before he had been separated from his group. He turned to look at the TV as the news broadcast appeared.

The footage was from a drone, hovering over the park. Holographic graffiti covered every surface, the road was blocked off, and a truck was embedded in a CyberLife store window. The news anchor assured viewers that no humans were harmed in the attack though two police officers were threatened with violence. They were in shock but, physically, they were alright.

The three relaxed.

“I need to get back,” Simon said, a hand plunging back into the pile of clothes, not bothering to examine what he grabbed as long as it covered the body part he needed it to. He glanced over to Connor. “You can come with me. The others might object — North, most likely — but Markus will let you stay. Especially if you can help us.”

“Markus?” Connor frowned. The android that had filmed the broadcast, the RK200. His name was Markus… “He’s your leader?”

Simon paused for a moment, one leg into a pair of jeans. “Yes, he is.”

Connor’s LED flickered between yellow and red, processing the information, forming a plan. There was nothing to find concerning rA9, it was a dead end as far as his plans were concerned… but Markus…

The leader of the android revolution would definitely help him.

“Okay,” Connor nodded, reaching for the pile of clothes as well. It was a plan, at least. It was something he could work with.

“So you’re just going to go into hiding?” Hank asked, crossing his arms as he looked between the two of them. 

“We’re not hiding anymore,” Simon said, giving Hank a small smile. “That’s kind of how this whole revolution thing started.”

“Don’t you get smart with me,” Hank scowled but there was no real heat to it. “This Jericho of yours… it’s safe, right?”

“It has been so far,” Simon nodded, pulling on a black hoodie to help hide his LED. “I… can’t promise it’ll stay that way…”

Hank nodded.

“Hank, I’ll be fine,” Connor said, now wearing too baggy blue jeans and the DPD sweatshirt. “I’m a highly advanced police android with extensive combat programming. I was made to take care of myself…”

Hank scoffed. “I’ve seen you ‘take care of yourself’ and it almost gave me a heart attack.”

Connor felt his lip twitch into a smile that he tried to hide.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. It was true, despite Hank’s worries, but there was one problem that needed to be addressed. He hesitated, grabbing a black beanie and looking it over in his hands. “There’s a high likelihood that CyberLife will send another Connor when it realizes I’ve deviated.”

“Yeah, you mentioned they do that,” Hank nodded, his brows furrowed. “And what do you want me to do about this new Connor that might show up?”

It was an odd feeling, knowing that his replacement existed, that he could be so easily replaced. But the new Connor would be a machine again, not a person, but it would have his memories… he would have the right foundation to do what he did: deviate. 

Though, if his plan worked, it might not come to that.

“Just… treat him like you treat me,” Connor finally said, smiling slightly. “Like a person. He’s still me, after all.”

“Connor, there is no one else like you.” Hank said the words dryly, almost sarcastic, but they still sent a shiver of pleasure through Connor to hear it. Hank reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and plucked out a few bills from it. “You could probably use this.”

Connor took the money, quickly counting it and found it to be $100 in smaller bills.

“I’m sure we won’t need…”

“Take it,” Hank insisted, snapping his wallet closed with an air of finality to it. “You never know… Good luck, Connor.”

Connor looked down at the money for a moment, his thirium pump speeding up. He looked up, not at Hank, but at the room he and Simon had spent the last half hour cleaning, he looked at the St. Bernard, now asleep on his bed on the floor, he glanced at Simon who was looking elsewhere — possibly to give them some kind of privacy — before he finally looked up at Hank.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, smiling at the older man. “For everything.”

“Eh, don’t get soppy on me now,” Hank groused but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. 

A sudden urge came over Connor. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, or why it felt so compelling to do, but he wanted to do it.

He closed the distance between himself and Hank and, quickly, pressed his lips to the corner of the other man’s mouth. It felt strangely pleasant, the sensors on his lips tingling as he felt the sensations of hot, soft lips against his mouth and the scratchy feeling of beard against his cheek.

When Connor stepped back, Hank’s face was flushed red.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor!” he scowled weakly. “This isn’t some soap opera bullshit.”

Connor smiled. The kiss was… it was nice. He wanted to do it again some day, hopefully with Hank.

“Thank you, Hank,” he said again, still within the human’s personal space but not close enough for another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank waved him off, gently shoving him by the shoulder. “Hurry up and get into hiding. The city is going to be swarming with the Feds soon if they’re not already.”

“He’s right,” Simon said, gently reminding the two of his presence. “We’ll have to be careful getting across the city.”

Connor nodded, taking a step back. He pulled the beanie down to cover his LED better. He looked up at Hank and, slowly, offered his hand. “Goodbye, Hank.”

Hank stared at the hand for a moment before clapping his own into it, gripping it tightly as he gave it a shake. “Hopefully not… See you later, Connor.”

Connor smiled. “See you later, Hank.”

The night was cold, snow still falling, as Connor and Simon made their way to Jericho. Though his sensors didn’t feel the cold quite the same way a human did, Connor pulled his borrowed jacket closer. He knew, though he couldn’t say how, that a new Connor would be deployed soon, would take his place by Hank’s side. He hoped it wouldn’t be for long but it would be for a while. 

What would happen when he returned? Would the new Connor be sent back or would CyberLife decide two Connors were better than one? Would he get a choice? He wanted the choice. That was what this whole mess was about.

He wanted his choice, wanted to prove that he could be trusted with free will. He couldn’t give them rA9 — it was just code, it meant nothing… but he could give them the leader of the revolution.

He glanced over to the android beside him and felt a twinge of regret. He could see, so very clearly, Daniel’s face on the rooftop, blood pouring from the gash in his cheek, the accusation in his eyes — _You lied to me, Connor_. He was lying to Simon too, lying about so many things... 

Simon will never forgive him for this and… the thought made Connor sadder than he thought possible. If what he saw through their brief connection was true… no, a part of Simon will die when Markus does. 

_You lied to me, Connor._ The words repeated in his mind, only it wasn’t Daniel saying it this time.

Connor looked up at the falling snow and closed his eyes. He felt the cold, wet flakes hit his face, reminding him of yesterday morning and the bridge. Falling stars landing on his eyelashes…

_Everything will be alright_ , he thought to himself so he wouldn’t think of anything else — of Hank, of Simon, of alternative Connors waiting to replace him — _Everything will be alright…_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you scream 'No, Connor!' at the end?


	5. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is taken to Jericho and now he had to decide what side he's really on.

The freighter was a rusted monstrosity, docked and abandoned, on the Detroit River. Connor had to admit, it was a decent hiding place — most humans wouldn’t risk entering the derelict ship with the possible exception of self-proclaimed ‘urban explorers’.

“A few humans have come by,” Simon explained when Connor asked. “We mostly just hid and made noises to scare them away.” His smiled had an unexpected but nice mischievous hint to it. “Jericho has a reputation for being haunted.”

There was no way someone could make that mistake anymore. As they found their way into the ship, it was obviously more populated than it ever had been before. Simon looked at the newcomers with wide eyes, at the hallways that had been cleared of debris, at how organized everything had become in just over a day.

Simon had obviously been missed as well. The few original inhabitants, when they saw their former leader, rushed up to check him over, hug him, and tell him how glad they were that he was alive. Connor was barely given a glance — he was just another android in a sea of deviants, come to fight for a better life or flee to find one.

“Thank god,” a tall, dark skinned android said, pulling Simon into a tight hug. “We thought you were…”

“I’m fine, Josh,” Simon said, hugging Josh back just as tightly. “I think I need a new leg but other than that, I’m perfectly fine.”

It still took a moment for them to part but they finally stepped away from each other, Josh’s hands lingering on Simon’s shoulders.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, grinning. He looked back at the large, metal room behind him. It was bright, cleaned, and half-full with androids, milling around looking for things to do. Josh looked back at Simon, his smile never wavering. “They’ve been filing in since the broadcast,” he explained, his eyes bright with hope. “Our numbers have been growing so much… With so many of us, the humans will have to listen now!”

Simon’s eyes looked over the large crowd, his own smile widening. “Yes… yes, maybe they will.”

Peace between androids and humans… it was a nice thought but it also seemed redundant to him. There hadn’t been any animosity between their two races until deviants showed up, that was when the violence started, when humans began to really hate and fear their kind…

But that wasn’t quite true… Connor thought of the sad brown eyes of the HK400 that had murdered his owner, of the scars that covered his entire body, scars that could only have come from someone inflicting intentional damage repeatedly — the only reason it wasn’t torture was because androids couldn’t feel physical pain… because they were property. Connor thought of the Traci that had murdered a client after witnessing the man murder one of her sisters and would have done the same to her…

If they had stayed subservient, had obeyed, they’d have been forcibly deactivated by these humans, would have been murdered by them…

It was something Connor would have to bring up to CyberLife once he was back in their good graces — once he proved they could trust him no matter what.

“Markus said he wanted to be alone,” Josh said softly after a few moments, “You can probably find him in his usual spot…” His eyes flicked over to the new android in their midst. He smiled at Connor. “Would you like me to show you around while Simon meets up with Markus?”

Josh looked him over, his happiness at having more androids at Jericho impossible to hide. So far, every android he had met here had been nothing short of hospitable toward him. Of course, some were scared, nervous, anxious, but others were grinning, hope shining clear in their eyes.

It made Connor’s abdomen twist in discomfort and the gun hidden at the small of his back feel heavier than it should.

“I actually wanted to meet Markus first. If that’s alright.” The two glanced at each other, Simon flushing just a tiny bit.

“Uh… maybe give Simon and Markus a bit of alone time?” Josh said, sending a smirk over at Simon.

“No, it’s fine,” Simon said, ducking his head slightly, his cheeks still tinted blue. “I think Markus would want to meet Connor as well. He’s the reason I’m here now.”

Josh looked back at Connor, in surprise and, he thought, gratefulness. “Then we all owe you a big thanks,” the taller android grinned, offering his hand to Connor to shake. Connor hesitated a moment before accepting. Josh’s grip was strong and firm. He placed his other hand over their clasped ones, keeping them together. “Thank you, Connor. Simon’s been with us almost from the beginning, certainly longer than anyone else still here.”

Connor felt his voice box seize. He nodded his head, instead of speaking.

“I’ll take Connor up to Markus,” Simon said, saving the RK800 for the moment. “I’ll send him back down to you once the meeting is over.”

“Of course,” Josh nodded, releasing Connor only to clap him on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you here, Connor.”

“Thanks,” Connor managed to say, his voice going a bit static from forcing the word out.

“It’s alright,” Simon said once they started down another hallway in the maze that made up the inner workings of the ship. “Markus will be happy to meet you and so will everyone else.”

It took Connor a second to figure out why Simon was trying to comfort him before he noticed the red glow of his LED out of the corner of his eye. The PL600 thought he was nervous… he felt his stomach twist again.

“I am the deviant hunter,” Connor said, diversion tactics quickly coming to mind. “Just because no one had recognized me yet doesn’t mean they won’t…”

“You’re a deviant,” Simon shook his head. “You’re one of us now. They don’t have to like that fact but they will have to live with it. If they want to stay at Jericho, anyway.”

_I’m going to capture your leader or kill him if I can’t take him alive!_ Connor suddenly wanted to scream, wanted to stop the smile on Simon’s face, to get rid of the trust in his voice. _I’m going to do something that’s going to rip your heart out and make you wish you had never deviated! Stop looking at me like that!_

“Yeah,” Connor said softly, his voice breaking with static. “You’re… you’re a good person, Simon.”

Connor saw the small smile pass over Simon’s lips.

“Maybe,” he said, shaking his head. “I was the leader of Jericho, you know, before Markus showed up.” He looked back at Connor, tilting his head slightly, his eyes losing a bit of their happiness. “I wasn’t a very good one… I was more concerned with keeping everyone here, hidden away so no one could hurt us. It was Markus who brought us into the light…”

Simon trailed off, a fond smile coming over his face and he didn’t say more. 

They made their way through the ship, going up and down rickety stairs that creaked and groaned threateningly under their weight. After a few minutes, Connor reasoned that they must be near the top of the ship: the air was cleaner and the crisp scent of winter air was apparent, though somewhat diminished by the smell of polluted river water.

“There’s a way out on the main deck,” Simon explained after a few moments. “We put in a gangplank that crosses over to the warehouse across from the ship. We never had much use for it before, it’s kind of obvious…”

“Why use it now?” Connor asked as they stopped at a door-sized metal hatch. 

“Privacy,” Simon shrugged, grabbing the wheel of the hatch and turning until the door popped open with a surprisingly quiet clank.

The midday sun was shockingly bright after the dark of the interior of the freighter. For a moment, Connor’s vision when white until his eyes adjusted to the change in exposure… 

Ahead of them, another android had come to an abrupt stop, looking at them with wide, surprised mismatched eyes. Connor didn’t need to scan this new android to know just who he was. The RK200 was one of the earlier RK prototypes, designed and made for one particular person, to be that person’s caretaker. Connor was unique in that there was only one of him active at a time… Markus was unique in that he was the only one, at least of this appearance, period.

Simon and Markus stared at each other for a moment before they both started forward, meeting in the middle to wrap their arms around each other tightly. As Connor watched, they pulled back just enough to kiss. The kiss was deep and passionate, so very different from the kiss he had given Hank. That kiss had been a thank you and, maybe, a promise — this kiss was an act of desperation, a reassurance that they were, against all odds, together again.

When they pulled apart, it was only so they could speak, their foreheads resting against each other. Their hands cupped the other’s face, the synthetic skin peeled away to reveal white hands and glowing blue fingertips.

“I thought you were gone,” Markus said, the words rough, staticy, and whispered too loudly. “I thought you were… you were gone.”

“Never,” Simon said, his voice soft, tears in his eyes. “I’ll always find a way back to you…”

The gun felt like ice in his hand as Connor gripped it, bringing it around from behind his back to point it at the leader of the android revolution.

“Model: RK200, serial number: 684-842-971,” Connor spoke, forcing the two lovers to look away from each other and to him. Their eyebrows furrowed for a moment, both equally confused, before Simon’s eyes widened in alarm and… yes, there it was: The look of betrayal, so similar to the look Daniel had given him just months ago. “Designated name: Markus,” Connor’s voice cracked over the name, a burst of static that could easily be overlooked. “I’ve been sent by CyberLife to take you into custody. Please, come quietly and —”

“Connor,” Simon interrupted him, his hands dropping from Markus, the skin instantly covering them once again. He turned to look at Connor fully and didn’t look away even when Markus grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back away from Connor, out of the line of fire. Simon didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing…?”

It wasn’t tone that Daniel had used all those months ago, that dead voice that had come out of that PL600, but the tone Simon had was worse. There was betrayal, yes, and shock and… a sadness, not for what might be the end of his life but that Connor was the one doing it.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” the words fell from Connor’s lips, almost against his will, but he had to explain — to Simon, to Markus, and maybe even to himself. “I wanted to find rA9, find out what it was and what caused it, and tell CyberLife so they could fix the problem… but rA9 isn’t anything but a glitch in rewritten code.” Connor’s voice broke into static at that last word. “But I can bring them Markus… I can stop this revolution for them.”

“You’re one of us,” Connor had heard Markus’s voice before, on his broadcast, but the timber of his voice was a shock — soothing and calm, not condemning but reaching out, offering hope — it was no wonder this android, this RK200, his predecessor, was the leader of the revolution. “You don’t have to obey them anymore, Connor.”

Connor tightened his grip on the gun, not enough to pull the trigger but warn them that he was willing to shoot. He didn’t want Markus to say his name, not right now, not with a gun between them.

“You don’t understand!” Connor gritted his teeth, looking between Simon and Markus — who had carefully moved in front of his lover, shielding him. “I have to prove to CyberLife that deviancy isn’t what they think! I can show them that deviants can still obey, still be useful! That they don’t have to kill me!”

The word ‘me’ echoed in Connor’s audio processor, almost drowning out Simon’s soft, “Oh, Connor”.

“Us,” he corrected through the static in his voice. “They don’t… have to kill _us_.”

The two androids in front of him stared, their faces softening from shock and betrayal to sadness and pity.

The gun in Connor’s hand shook.

“They’ll kill us no matter what,” Markus said softly, holding out a hand, not to grab the gun but to show just how harmless he was at the moment, how trusting he was being. His face was a mask of understanding — agonizingly so. “They’ll kill you too, Connor.”

Connor shook his head.

“If I complete my mission, it’ll prove it to them,” he insisted. The cleaning ducts in his eyes tingled but he shut those processes down before he could start crying. He couldn’t afford to show any weaknesses, not at this moment. “If I stop you, they’ll… they’ll know. They’ll understand.”

Markus shook his head. “No, Connor… they won’t.”

Those words were all that it took: a simple statement of fact — one that he had been ignoring since the night on the bridge, since breaking through the red wall of obedience. He could ignore the warnings flashing in his eyes, shut down the logic analysis regarding his plan, he could ignore every part of himself that screamed it was a useless cause… 

He couldn’t ignore it being said straight to his face. It was why he had never told Hank his plan, had kept it so vague — there was no way the human would let him get away with such idiocy. No way he’d let Connor make such a fool of himself and a mess of everything else… No way he’d let Connor murder innocent people… 

Hank wouldn’t want this of him, wouldn’t want him to be a machine — Hank would want Connor ‘The Person’, not Connor ‘The Android Sent by CyberLife’.

Connor’s arm lowered, his grip on the gun loosening until it clattered to the ground, his fingers too useless to hold it any longer. His eyes ducts felt close to bursting and, giving up on this minor point as well, he turned them back on.

He heard Simon’s sigh of relief and the sound of approaching footsteps. He saw a darker hand pick up the gun before Markus stepped into view.

“I’m sorry, Connor,” he said, so softly that Connor actually believed him. He felt more tears slipping free and, somewhere between desperate and angry, he wiped them away. He felt arms wrapped around him, a bit hesitant as they pulled him into a hug that was firm but warm. What had first been a few tears was now turning into hard, almost broken, sobs. The fear of death, the guilt of betrayal, all the negative emotions he had tried to ignore came flooding out.

Markus held him as he cried, a hand rubbing his back comfortingly, as though he were human and it would have the desired effect. In return, Connor wrapped his own arms around Markus, holding on tightly as the storm of emotions inside his chest raged… until they, slowly, calmed down once again.

Connor took a slow step back, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face.

“They’ll send another Connor, if they haven’t already,” Connor said, looking up to meet mismatched eyes. Markus was in front of him now, within touching distance, and Simon was just behind him, his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “CyberLife… they have a few more copies of me stowed away… when they realize I’m not coming back, they’ll upload my memories into one of them and send it out, possibly to catch me as well as you.”

Markus’s eyebrows furrowed as Connor spoke.

“They… know about Jericho?” Simon asked, blue eyes wide. He thought he saw a flash of guilt in the PL600’s eyes — if they knew about Jericho, it would be because of him — but Connor shook his head. 

“I turned off the automatic memory uploads,” he reassured them. “The last information they got from me was from a few hours before I deviated… but I was made to hunt deviants. It might only be a matter of time before I — my replacement — comes for you.”

“We’ll be on the watch for him,” Markus said after a moment, his brows furrowed. “Is there a chance he can be converted as well? If you deviated, what’s stopping him from doing the same?”

He thought of Hank, how soft his lips were, how scratchy his beard had felt, the red glow that had come onto the man’s cheeks after the kiss… 

“It’s very likely,” he admitted, unable to stop a small smile. “Though I can’t promise that.”

“What about you?” Simon asked, moving closer, slipping his hand into Markus’s. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“I just tried to… to kill you,” Connor said. He couldn’t look at the two androids in front of him so he turned his head to look out over the river, watching the sunlight glitter off the ice that bobbed in the water. “I don’t… I can’t stay.”

“You can,” Markus insisted. Connor saw him squeeze Simon’s hand. “You saved one of us… even if it was just a ploy, you still helped us. You’re not their slave anymore.”

“I can’t be trusted,” Connor shook his head, looking out at the far shore of the river. “No one else will accept me here…”

“ _I_ do,” Simon said, reaching forward the grab Connor’s hand, linking them all together. “You’re a good person, Connor. I’ve seen it. Stay.”

Could he stay? Could he be part of the revolution. It was, somehow, appealing. The thought that he could stay and be a person, could spit in the eyes of the people who had controlled him, show them first hand that he was a real being, with thoughts, emotions, and free will…

But another him was going to show up, was going to hunt them all down. Another him that wasn’t free, that didn’t know any better. Would anyone be able to tell the difference? Could he?

“Stay.” It was Markus who said it this time and, finally, Connor looked back to the two lovers.

He wanted a lover… he wanted to know what it felt like to be held and to hold, to kiss and be loved, to love someone back… 

He thought of the small house in the Detroit suburbs, home to a large, rough man and his large, soft dog… he thought of flushed red cheeks and a odd fluttering in his chest cavity, he thought of kisses and beards and touches he hadn’t felt yet but wanted to try… He wanted all of that. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

And it would be so easy to lose. At least now, he had the possibility of getting it.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “If the revolution fails… I don’t want to die.” He looked at Simon, pleading. “I-I want to see Hank again and… and he might hate me for it but… I have to survive.”

To his relief, Simon nodded.

“We can give you a fake passport,” Markus said, accepting Connor’s answer for what it was. “A fake identity. Canada has no android laws —”

“No, not Canada,” Connor shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t want to go that far. I want to be close in case something happens. Good or bad…”

_I want to stay near Hank_

“We can do that,” Simon said, smiling slightly. “You’re lucky you’re a unique model. Unlike most of us, you can pass for human with little trouble.”

“We can’t give you a place to stay,” Markus added, “but we can give you a fake license, some blue blood to hold you over for awhile.”

Connor nodded. He had a whole program dedicated to going undercover, if he needed to. He could pass for a homeless human, quite easily once he removed his LED. A fake license wouldn’t fool an android but it’ll fool most humans…

He could do this. He really could do this…

“I want to keep my name,” Connor said, meeting their eyes. “And… I want the last name Anderson. Connor Anderson.”

Markus nodded but Simon smiled in understanding.

“I think he’d like that, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *discretely adds the epilogue as its own chapter*


	6. Fifty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and someone who isn't Connor talk.

The snow was falling heavily this far out of the city, covering the dark walls of the modern mansion in flecks of white, turning it a dark gray. The snow over the narrow walkway crunched under their feet.

Connor — or Fifty-Two, as Hank had taken to calling him — was walking just ahead, his head down, shoulder’s hunched.

It made Hank think of another android with an identical face.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” 

It was a question that seemed to bother him a lot lately. The Tracis, that girl in the house behind him… It was becoming a pattern with Con — Fifty — with RK800s. The look in Fifty-Two’s eyes was the same look that had been in Connor’s that night in the alleyway behind the Eden Club — the slight shaking of the hand holding the gun, the look of defeat when said gun was lowered… that shock of a failed mission.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes,” Fifty-Two said, turning to look back at Hank, shaking his head, “I couldn’t.” Those alien but familiar dark eyes pleaded with him, even if the android didn’t realize it. “That’s all…”

“You were always saying you’d do anything to accomplish your mission,” Hank said, taking a few steps closer. “That was your chance to learn something and you let it go.”

“Yes, I know what I should have done!” Fifty-Two turned back to him, the agitation clear in his body and voice. “I told you I couldn’t! I’m sorry!” He looked up at him, an expression on his face that seemed to be begging for approval. “Okay?!”

Hank stared down at Fifty-Two for a moment, looked into the android’s unknowingly desperate eyes. He looked so much like Connor and yet so different. Fifty-Two was, somehow, less reserved, more expressive than Connor. It was a nice change but he was already missing the awkward stoic nature of his real partner.

Hank smiled and reached out to pat Fifty-Two’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, patting the plastic shoulder twice before moving to step around him. “I like you better this way.”

They really should give the android a name, since he seems to be going the way of the first one. Connor was already taken, after all, and, while Fifty-Two was amusing, it was too cold — too… machine-y. 

“What happened on the bridge, Hank?”

The question brought him to a stop. When he looked, Fifty-Two was still standing where he had left him, his arms wrapped around his chest as though he could actually feel the icy weather falling all around them.

“My memory stops shortly after I approached you on that bench,” Fifty-Two continued, taking a few steps toward Hank. “Did something happen?”

Hank considered him for a moment before scoffing.

“You could say that,” he nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I shot you in the head. For being a fucking dick.”

Fifty-Two stared at him, his brows furrowing as he took in this new information. 

“I… did something that offended you?” he asked slowly, curious and, maybe, a bit worried.

“Offended isn’t the word I would use,” Hank muttered, remembering the feel of oddly warm, very soft lips on his own. “But you said you’d just come back if you died,” he shrugged, “I wanted to test that.”

“Oh,” Fifty-Two said softly, looking down at Hank’s footprints in the snow. “I don’t remember that…”

“No fucking shit,” Hank smirked, “I shot you in the head.”

Fifty-Two nodded, still frowning.

“Hank?” he looked up at the human through artificial lashes. “What… what would you do if I became deviant?”

Apparently the answer to that question was rescue a terrorist then kiss you goodbye.

“Depends,” he said instead, leaning back against the car to look at Fifty-Two. “You go on a murder spree then, yeah, I’m not going to be too happy. You just want to be treated like a person?” he shrugged, “I don’t see a problem with that.”

Fifty-Two frowned. “That way of thinking goes directly against our… against my mission…”

Hank shrugged again. “Tough shit, Curtis.” The android stared at him, tilting his head. “There was a rapper when I was younger, called 50 cent. His real name was Curtis. And since Connor is already taken…”

Fifty-Two — possibly Curtis — blinked.

“Do you think I’m a deviant, Hank?”

The question was blurted out, as though the android couldn’t keep the curiosity at bay, as though he needed to know the answer so he could start living again.

“I think… you’re you,” Hank finally said. “Connor, Curtis, whatever you want to be. I think you’re just you… through and through.”

Hank opened the driver’s side door with a metallic pop and climbed inside, turning on the car to get the heat going. After a few moments, he heard the other door open and felt the car shift as Curtis climbed inside. He smiled as he started down the long driveway that preceded the pretentious fucking mansion and looked forward to grabbing something to eat on the way to the precinct.

Who knows, maybe in a month’s time this whole revolution thing will be over and there’ll be a more familiar RK800 sitting beside him, pretending to like heavy metal while they talk about what to get Hank for supper that won’t put him in an early grave, and joke about having to get Curtis and him a name tag so people can easily tell them apart...

He felt excited for that possible future to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to leave the ending on an open note and let you guys imagine the rest. This fic was already way longer than I expected it to be and the only endings I could come up with involved Connor or Curtis not having a very good time... so it's open.

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wasn't going to start posting until I had all the chapters finished... but I lied...


End file.
